You who never arrived 
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost 
from the start, I don't even know what songs 
would please you.  I have given up trying 
to recognize you in the surging wave of the next 
moment. All the immense 
images in me- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape, 
cities, towers, and bridges, and 
unsuspected turns in the path, 
and those powerful lands that were once 
pulsing with the life of the gods- 
all rise within me to mean 
you, who forever elude me. 

You, Beloved, who are all 
the gardens I have ever gazed at, 
longing. An open window 
in a country house-, and you almost 
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. 
Streets that I chanced upon,- 
you had just walked down them and vanished. 
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors 
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, 
gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows? 
perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us 
yesterday, seperate, in the evening...

-Rainier Maria Rilke

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